3. Selene
3
Selene
T he crisp mountain air fills my lungs, my thoughts lingering on the high of finishing up another project. Yesterday marked the culmination of a week of painstaking work–hours spent poring over sketches, tweaking colors, and chasing those elusive moments when everything finally clicked into place. Sending the final designs off felt like reaching the summit of a mountain, and I’m still riding the rush.
Umbra just finished recording their fourth studio album and I am lucky enough to be one of the first to hear it. When I arrived home after my embarrassing run-in with Theo a week ago, I found a package waiting on my doorstep. I hadn’t expected it so soon—it was almost like they knew exactly when I’d need the distraction.
Inside was a notebook filled with scribbles of lyrics and little sketches, along with three CDs. The first CD contained their upcoming album, the second held potential bonus tracks, and the third contained imagery I could incorporate in the artwork for the album of the new concepts for their face veils and elaborate costume designs.
I am practically skipping into town, so caught up in the high of finishing all the designs and getting them sent off for approval that I nearly plow right into Aubrey as she comes darting out of Bear and Brew. Aubrey is a vision of effortless charm, her flowing brown hair catches the light as it spills past her shoulders. There’s a warmth to her, from the sun-kissed glow of her skin to the deep laugh lines that frame her ever-present smile. As always, she’s dressed with an elegant ease. She looks stunning in a jacket over a breezy blouse, perfectly paired slacks, and shoes that look both expensive and comfortable. The scent of cinnamon and a hint of florals clings to her like an expensive perfume layered over the remnants of time spent in her garden.
Everything about her is intoxicatingly alive, from the way she moves to the way she commands attention without even trying. Aubrey makes the world seem brighter, like she exists in her own little orbit and the rest of us are just lucky to drift through it.
She is the sun, and she knows it.
“Ah, Sweetheart,” Aubrey says with a dazzling smile as she reaches up to grab my shoulders. Her touch is light but firm, it’s grounding in a way that makes it clear she’s used to pulling people into her gravity. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in forever, I got so worried I almost called my Morgan to go look for you! Come, let’s grab a drink and catch up, I have so much to tell you.”
She doesn’t wait for a response, not that she ever does. Aubrey is a whirlwind, and trying to resist her pull is like standing in the way of a tidal wave. There’s an ease about her, an almost intoxicating confidence. Her energy crackles in the air, making it impossible not to be swept along.
Before I know it, she’s dragging me into the coffee shop she just exited, her words tumbling out in rapid succession. The door swings shut behind us, and the world outside seems to fade under the sheer force of her presence.
She practically shoves me into the booth closest to the register, and without even asking what I want she marches behind the counter like she owns the place, which I guess in a way she does. “What do you like when it comes to coffee? Do you prefer sweet or savory? Never mind—I’m whipping up a drink I’ve been perfecting. Hot or iced?”
“Iced.” I chuckle. “It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of a blizzard; I will always pick iced.”
“Excellent choice,” she says with a wink and another beautiful grin. “You strike me as someone who likes a little edge to their drinks—bold but smooth.”
She has this way of making everyone feel special like they’re the most interesting person in the room. It’s part of what makes her so impossible to resist.
Then again, with my past, I’ve always known better than to get too close.
There’s always something beneath the surface with her, an unreadable depth behind her bright smiles. It’s in the way her eyes linger just a second too long like she’s catching things she won’t put into words.
Maybe that’s why I like her so much. No matter what she’s been through in the past, she is still a ray of sunshine.
Aubrey’s energy is contagious, but it’s also exhausting. If I’m going to survive this catch-up session, I might as well get comfortable. I settle into the booth tucking one foot under my thigh. It’s a habit I’ve had since I was a kid—like creating a little sanctuary in whatever space I’m in.
As I watch her move behind the counter, effortlessly commanding the space, I take in the shop around me. It’s warm and inviting, the kind of place that smells like roasted beans and fresh pastries, with soft music playing in the background. The town itself still feels new to me, like a puzzle I haven’t quite put together yet, but there’s quality to it—especially the people—that makes me feel like I’m supposed to be here.
She brings over what looks like an iced latte and delicious-smelling chocolate muffins. Aubrey slides a cup across the counter with a flourish. “Here you go, Darling. My latest creation. Tell me how amazing it is.”
A rich flavor I can’t quite place explodes on my tongue as I sip on the latte. I’m usually a simple caramel person but this is completely unexpected and I love it. I look over at her to tell her and a smile takes over her face and her eyes crinkle.
“This is amazing!” I exclaim, looking up at her.
Her smile widens with satisfaction. That look—that moment when she knows she’s nailed the balance just right—is what makes people fall in love with her. “I knew you’d love it.”
She perches on the edge of the booth, already launching into a whole explanation about the healing properties of elderberry, and how it’s the perfect autumn drink when everyone starts getting sick. Her hands move animatedly as she talks, her enthusiasm spilling out in every word, pulling me in, and making me want to listen.
I hear a musical chuckle from the other room, right before a honeyed voice with a southern drawl calls out, “Auntie, who are you lecturing? Not everyone wants to know every plant you have in your garden. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be helping me get this recipe just right?”
The voice is warm, playful, and utterly captivating, I don’t lean forward, but a part of me still leans toward the sound, intrigued despite myself.
Aubrey’s nose crinkles at the playful reprimand. “I’m not lecturing her,” she insists. “I made her an elderberry latte and I was simply explaining its benefits. Is that a crime?” She huffs, crossing her arm, but the twinkle in her eyes betrays her amusement.
The source of the voice rounds the corner and I sit up straighter—not because I want to, but because there’s an allure to her I can’t ignore. She’s striking. Her deep brown skin glows under the cafe lights, her curls are pulled back into a sleek low ponytail, her oversized round glasses frame observant, intelligent eyes. She’s effortlessly stylish in high-waisted jeans, a fishnet undershirt, and a cropped vintage band tee. It’s an aesthetic that says she doesn’t follow trends—she bends them to her will.
There is an undeniable confidence in the way she moves—graceful yet assertive, like someone who commands attention without demanding it.
“Morgan, this is Selene,” Aubrey says, grinning. “She’s the girl I was telling you about—the artist who just moved to town.”
Artist. I don’t correct her right away. The term is almost flattering. But still, precision wins out. “Graphic designer,” I say with a small smile.
“It’s the same thing,” Aubrey dismisses with a wave of her hand. “She works for that band you’re obsessed with, Umbra.”
Morgan’s deep copper eyes light up. “You’re the one behind their visuals? That’s amazing. How did you even meet them?” Her excitement isn’t performative. It’s real, eager, a sincerity no one can fake. She slides into the booth beside Aubrey, her energy magnetic. Not just movement—momentum.
“It was literally a fluke. My sister called me one night after I moved in with my brother and asked if I could help her friend with a promotional graphic for a band. I said yes not realizing who she was talking about. A week later, I had a contract, and my life hasn’t been the same since. Thanks to them I was able to move out here, buy a house, and leave the chaos of my old life behind.”
“Wait, your sister knows the band?”
I huff a soft laugh, shaking my head. “At this point, I’m not sure there’s anyone she doesn’t know. Celeste has this way of floating into people’s lives and somehow becoming impossible to forget. One minute she’s in Oregon making candles with a woman named Tiger Lilly, the next she’s backstage at a show talking astrology with a lead singer. She collects people like postcards—bright, chaotic, and all over the map.”
They laugh, and for a second, I feel like I’m watching the moment from just outside the glass—close enough to see the warmth, not quite close enough to feel it. Then Aubrey turns, her smile tugging me back in.
Aubrey’s voice is full of pride. “My Morgan here is the youngest lieutenant this town has ever had. We are so proud of her.”
Morgan’s smile is slow and thoughtful. “Aubrey calls me hers because she thinks she raised me.”
Aubrey scoffs. “You’re mine because I love you, but I did raise you. I remember having you at my house almost every day during the summers. Not to mention all the sleepovers.”
Morgan nudges her affectionately. It’s an easy touch that seems like it comes from years of trust. It’s effortless, their rhythm. A closeness that doesn’t need to be explained. It just is.
The low, unmistakable growl of a motorcycle cuts through the moment, drawing all of our attention toward the window. The rider pulls up smoothly, moving with an ease as he swings his leg over the bike and removes his helmet.
Damn.
He’s striking. Not in a polished way—no, there’s an edge to it, a certain roughness that makes it more interesting. Tousled dark brown hair, a strong jawline dusted with stubble, and deep-set eyes that seem to take in everything at once. There’s a rugged charm about him. He’s weathered yet effortlessly cool, like a man who belongs on the cover of an old adventure magazine. His leather jacket is well-worn, molded to his frame like a second skin.
Morgan tilts her head, eyeing him up and down. “Who is that?”
No one answers right away. I glance at Aubrey and find her expression frozen for the briefest second before she smooths it over with practiced ease. But there’s there’s a flicker there—almost a flash of wariness. “I have never seen him before.”
The bell above the door jingles as the stranger steps inside, his gaze sweeping over the space before landing on us. He flashes an easy, charismatic smile as Aubrey gets out of the booth and walks over to the counter.
“Hi.” His voice is smooth as honey. “I was told this was the place for good coffee and better conversation.”
Aubrey smiles back. “You heard right. What can I get started for you?”
He rattles off a simple order before turning his attention back to us. Morgan still hasn’t spoken, though her fingers drum lightly against the tabletop.
“You all locals?” He asks, his gaze flicking between the three of us as he casually leans against the counter, hands resting in his pockets.
“Born and raised,” Aubrey says easily, retrieving a cup and setting to work on his drink.
I shake my head. “Nope, I’m new to town.”
He nods, then his eyes flicker back to Aubrey, the corner of his mouth tilting.
The handsome stranger walks over to us as he gives Morgan a slow appreciative once-over. “And you?”
Her smile is slow, deliberate, she leans forward resting her chin on her hands. She gives him the same slow up and down before responding. “No, but I suppose you could say I know this place better than most.”
His lips part slightly at that like another question is sitting on his tongue, but instead, he just nods. A response that’s more careful than casual. Then again, I guess as someone who works at the Sheriff’s Department she really does know this place better than most of the people here.
“I’m Bennett,” he offers, his gaze lingering on Morgan. “Freelance travel writer. I’m in town doing a piece on the ski resort. Figured I’d get a feel for the locals, hear what they have to say about the place.”
Morgan leans back against the booth. “Oh? And what exactly are you looking to know?”
Bennett shrugs. “A little bit of everything. The town’s history, its people—anything worth writing about.”
Aubrey chuckles as she brings him his drink. “Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place for stories.”
He takes a slow sip, his expression thoughtful. “What’s one thing I should know about the area? What would be a big draw for tourists?” He asks Aubrey, tilting his head slightly. “You seem like someone who’s seen a lot of this town’s history.”
Aubrey’s smile sharpens but there’s a steely edge in her eyes now, it’s the look a woman has when her age is brought into question. “Oh, Sweetheart, I don’t just know the history. I am the history.”
Bennett huffs a quiet laugh, though there’s a flicker of wistfulness lingers in it. He studies her for a moment longer before finally shifting his attention back to me.
“You said you’re new here. What made you move to Shadow Grove?”
I smile, though I can feel the familiar twinge of discomfort settling in my chest. The short answer? A fresh start. The long answer? Well, that’s a story I don’t owe to a stranger with a charming smile and a motorcycle.
“I needed a change of scenery,” I say instead, keeping my tone light. “Big city life wasn’t for me anymore.”
Bennett tilts his head slightly, studying me like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. “And you landed here of all places? Shadow Grove isn’t exactly on the map.”
I shrug, fingers tracing the rim of my coffee cup. “It was voted one of the best small towns in North America,” I say, lifting my iced latte in a mock toast. “Seemed like a good enough reason to check it out.”
Morgan snorts. “You mean, you visited once, met with a realtor on a whim, and then dropped everything to buy a house.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t deny it. I just finished telling them the story. “There wasn’t anything to drop. I had a feeling about this place.”
What I don’t say is that I was desperate for a trace of home—anything that felt steady. Atlanta had stopped feeling that way long before I left, and DC wasn’t much better. Orion had been great, but I knew he worried about me, hovering like an overprotective mother hen. He meant well, but I needed space. I needed a place where I wasn’t constantly reminded of everything I’d lost.
Bennett’s lips quirk up at the corner like he’s amused. “So you packed up your life on a gut feeling?”
“Pretty much.” I take a sip of my coffee. “And so far, no regrets.”
“Well,” he says, leaning back, “I respect the spontaneity. You just up and moved here all alone?”
“Not exactly.” I grin. “I’ve got Valkyrie.”
“Who is Valkyrie?” Morgan asks, tilting her head.
I glance at Bennett, whose brow raises in curiosity. “She’s my dog,” I explain. “A red Doberman. Trained guard dog.”
Aubrey arches a brow. “Trained, huh?”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral. Technically, I’m not lying. Valkyrie did go through training—she just… didn’t exactly pass. TSA deemed her too easily distracted by shiny objects, which, honestly, is one of my favorite aspects of her personality. But Orion doesn’t need to know she flunked out. As far as he’s concerned, she’s a certified protector, and that’s all that matters.
Bennett chuckles. “So, you’ve got a security detail. Smart.”
“Gotta be prepared,” I say, half-joking. “You never know what kind of trouble lurks in a small mountain town like this.”
Morgan leans in conspiratorially. “Oh, trust me. This town has its fair share of secrets.”
Aubrey smirks. “That’s putting it lightly.”
He watches us closely like he’s cataloging every word. “Secrets, huh?” Bennett drums his fingers against the table. “Now that sounds like a story worth telling.”
The words hang in the air, heavier than they should.
I swirl the ice in my cup, the clink louder than it should be in the quiet that follows. He’s not just collecting quotes. He’s studying us with the kind of focus that doesn’t belong to a man chasing a deadline.
I take another sip of my coffee, studying him right back.
Shadow Grove might have been my fresh start.
But there’s a weight to Bennett’s gaze that makes me feel like he’s not just here for his article.